The Sessions
by thesheepisblack
Summary: A guilt-stricken girl. A lost and broken boy. Two kids, one therapist. Together, they heal. AU/AH/OOC
1. Chapter 1

**Stephenie owns them. I just make them miserable.**

* * *

_Prologue _

_First session._

"I'm trying really hard to be happy."

"And it's not working?"

"Would I be here if it were working?"

"Why are you here?"

"Are you kidding?"

"I'm not holding a gun to your head. You're here because you choose to be."

"I don't _want _to be miserable."

"Why do you think you're depressed?"

"Because I killed my parents."

* * *

**A/N: So I started another story. Plot bunnies are sort of relentless. Grown Ups is my second priority right now because the plot to this guy is much more clear in my mind. Get ready for some angst you guys. It's going to be one hell of a ride (if it goes how I want it to).  
**

**Please review! They make me smile, each and every one of them.**


	2. First Session

Stephenie owns them; I make them musical. Speaking of music: Listen to "Think of Me" while Bella sings so you can get an idea of what her voice is like (she has an opera voice). I love Sarah Brightman, but Emmy Rossum is closer to what I imagine Bella sounds like, as she's younger.

* * *

_**First session**_

"_You blame yourself." It's not a question._

"_Who else is there to blame?" I spit._

"_Here's a crazy thought: The killer?"_

"_Can we talk about something else?"_

"_Sure. How are you adjusting with the Cullens?"_

"_They're nice people. Except Edward; I don't think he likes me."_

"_Why do you think that?"_

"_He glares."_

_She nods and writes something down on her yellow notepad._

"_Have you tried talking to him?"_

"_No. Why would I?"_

"_It's important that you're comfortable in your own home."_

"_Except it's _not_ my home. I'm a guest. I keep to myself, and they return the favor."_

"_That must be lonely."_

"_It's better that way."_

"_Why's that?"_

"_So I don't hurt anyone."_

"_Bella, you're not a villain."_

"_Aren't I?"_

* * *

Esme greets me at the front door upon my return.

"Hi Bella. Do you think you could give me a hand with dinner?"

I'm in no position to refuse.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" she asks. I'm shocked and apparently, it shows.

She laughs.

"Relax, you're almost eighteen. I'm no prude and your mother wasn't either," she says, smiling wistfully.

"The social worker said you knew her. How well?" I ask.

"We were best friends in college. We were crazy_. _Think '_Girls Gone Wild'," _she laughs, handing me a glass of Merlot.

As I take a sip, I try to process what Esme is telling me. I've only ever known the nurturing side of my mother. She never got drunk around me. She smoked weed occasionally, but that was it. I smile at the thought of my mother having _fun._

After dinner, I retreat straight to my room to tackle my homework. Next door, I hear Edward playing piano. Notes from "Castle on a Cloud" float into my room.

"I know a place where no one's lost,  
I know a place where no one cries,  
Crying at all is not allowed,  
Not in my castle on a cloud," I sing along absently.

Edward keeps playing, and I continue to sing along. It goes on for hours, the music ranging from broadway songs to modern pop. It's comforting.

I fall asleep to compositions from Debussy.

* * *

Stretch, yawn, stretch, shower.

As I go through my morning routine I hum Disney's "Once upon a Dream" from Sleeping Beauty. No one is up yet, not even Edward, who has to be at school at the same time I do. I rush down the stairs to make myself an omelet.

"_I know you_  
_I walked with you once upon a dream._  
_I know you_  
_The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam_  
_Yes, I know it's true_  
_that visions are seldom all they seem_  
_But if I know you, I know what you'll do_  
_You'll love me at once_  
_the way you did once upon a dream_," I sing softly, cracking eggs into a bowl.

Once I've eaten and cleaned up, I leave.

* * *

After AP biology, it's lunchtime. I head towards the auditorium, which is always empty at this time. The acoustics are perfect for opera.

So I sing.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly_  
_When we've said goodbye_  
_Remember me once in a while_  
_Please promise me, you'll try_

_When you'll find that once again you long_  
_To take your heart back and be free_  
_If you'll ever find a moment_  
_Spare a thought for me_

_We never said our love was evergreen_  
_Or as unchanging as the sea_  
_But if you can still remember_  
_Stop and think of me_

_Think of all the things_  
_We've shared and seen_  
_Don't think about the way_  
_Things might have been_

_Think of me, think of me waking_  
_Silent and resigned_  
_Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind_

_Recall those days, look back on all those times_  
_Think of those things we'll never do_  
_There will never be a day_  
_When I won't think of you_," I bellow.

I hear a cell phone ringing from right-stage and a "fuck" uttered.

I don't stick around long enough to find out who it was.

* * *

**A/N: Who will it be? The suspense! *wink wink, nudge nudge***


End file.
